There Would Be Food Tomorrow
“I’m Jason Vance,” I said. “Maya Vance’s father.”
The counselor, a woman named Mrs.
Ortega, widened her eyes, and something in her expression made me deeply uneasy.
“You’re Jason?” she said, and there was a strange weight in the way she said it.
She pulled up Maya’s file on her computer, and I watched her scan it.
My name was listed as Maya’s father and legal guardian, but the contact phone number on file was not mine.
The last three digits were wrong.